


Lenore’s Birthday Present

by Oceans_Away



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Presents, Birthday Sex, Dom/sub, Dominant Lenore, F/M, Femdom, Get you some lesbian wife friends who know you too well, Good Boy, Kink, Light BDSM, Magic Strap-on, Pegging, Strap-Ons, Submissive Hector, Vampires have weird birthday traditions but I support them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:01:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28011318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oceans_Away/pseuds/Oceans_Away
Summary: It's Lenore's birthday, and Striga, Morana and Hector have a surprise for her. Not that Hector had any say in this, or else he wouldn't be wearing a pair of ass-less panties right now.[CW: Very low-key dub-con].
Relationships: Hector/Lenore (Castlevania)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	Lenore’s Birthday Present

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BakedTofu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakedTofu/gifts).



"Is this really necessary?" Hector let out a long, exasperated sigh through his nose. The electric heating in the plush sitting room was some mercy, but it was still a brisk, December day. The cold pricked his nude body, his nipples pointing and his knees locking. 

"Yes," Striga replied sharply from where she squatted in front of him on one knee, roughly arranging his balls into the tight scoop of a pair of scarlet panties. "I didn't take Lenore seriously all the time she was doing good work, and then she really came through. I feel bad. Since it's her birthday, I want to make it up to her." She twanged the strip of satin on his hip bone. 

He bristled like a badger in the rain. "Well, I'm sure that's a touching sentiment, but couldn't you take her out for a picnic or buy her a necklace or a new pet? You know, something normal."

"She has a pet." Striga leered up at him. "And besides, we're vampires, this is normal." She gripped the tops of his thighs and spun him, putting the small of his back level with her chin. 

The panties were a bright, merry red that stood out garishly on the muted, amber tan of Hector's skin. They were extremely snug, cupping and squeezing his balls and his cock, giving him just enough stimulation to make it extra awkward having Striga poking around down there. The gusset was held in place by two satin loops cutting into the muscle at the very tops of his thighs. A satin triangle covered his dark curls neatly, but the panties had no back. Instead a thick, flamboyant ribbon sprouted from either side of the front piece. Striga caught them up and wrapped them around Hector's slim hips. She tied the ribbon in a large, blooming bow at his back, the knot perched on his tailbone and the ends laying gracefully either side of the cleft of his ass, one on each cheek. She gave a harsh tug. The gusset tightened, shooting a gasp out of Hector. 

She flicked the bow and stood, dusting off her hands. "Perfection. She's a woman of odd taste, but it's not necessarily bad taste." She slapped his ass. 

His sphincter contracted. He growled in his throat and crossed his arms tightly over his pricking nipples. 

The door to the sitting room swung open. Morana came striding in, looking all too pleased with herself. She carried a box wrapped in ink-blue paper and silver ribbon. "Oh, good work, my love. He looks a picture."

Hector bunched his shoulders up to his ears and turned the colour of a ripening plum. His furious, body-wide blush pulsed out into the cool, winter air. 

"Thank you." Striga's voice brightened in the presence of her wife. "You ready?" 

Morana held up the box. "Absolutely."

Hector frowned in profound suspicion. His sphincter tightened again. 

*

Lenore sat at her dressing table, her soft, white nightgown resting on her body, like fresh snowfall. It was just past twilight, the lilac sigh of early night drifting into her bedroom from the large, French window. She loved that her birthday was in the winter, it gave her long, dark hours to fill with indulgence. She stroked a brush through her avalanche of autumnal hair and hummed a half-forgotten song to herself, harmonising with the occasional low hoot of an owl outside. 

A clipped knock came at her door. 

"Come in, Morana." Lenore called. 

The door clicked and Morana stepped into the room, her long skirts rustling. "How did you know it was me?" 

Lenore kept brushing her hair, their eyes meeting in the dressing table mirror. "Striga bangs her great fist, and Carmilla doesn't knock."

Morana chuckled. Lenore's gaze alighted on the square box she was holding. Her raspberry red eyes lit up. 

Morana noticed and grinned warmly. "Happy Birthday, Sister."

"Oh, you sweet, old thing!" Lenore beamed like a spoiled, little girl and hopped up from her stool. She hurried over to Morana, put her hands on her arms, and kissed her on both cheeks. Then she slipped the present from her hands and scurried to the bed with it, dropping down onto the mattress and whipping the ribbon away with a flourish. 

Morana smiled at her sister. It was her one special day when she didn't have to be the dignified diplomat. Morana went to the bed and leaned against one of the posts. 

"You didn't have to, you know," Lenore said, shredding the wrapping paper with her keen fingernails. 

Morana raised an eyebrow. "Remember what you did for my last birthday?" 

Lenore shrugged. "Had our resident magician invent a type of ink that was visible to vampires but not humans, then used it to write the clues for a castle-wide treasure hunt for mini trinkets, that at the end formed the puzzle pieces to an enchanted key that lifted a magical veil to reveal several pots of the ink and three freshly caught human virgins."

"Exactly," Morana said. "So open your present."

Lenore smiled at her and tore the last of the paper away with a loud, ripping sound. She lifted the lid on the box. She gasped and clapped. Inside was a thick, long, dark red dildo, moulded with smooth bumps spiralling up it. It gleamed like agate in the soft, bedroom light. It was fixed into a supple, black, leather harness, and accompanied in the box by a small bottle of a clear, vicious substance. The bottle was sealed with wax, bearing the distinctive mark of their crafty magician. Lenore's smile tore across her face. She held up the strap-on and bottle, beaming dazzlingly at Morana. 

"It's a special solution." Morana explained. "Coat the strap-on with it and you'll also experience stimulation whilst using it." 

Lenore giggled, low and wicked. "Thank you, Morana. You really understand me, you know?" 

"Not just me. It's a two part gift, Striga has the other part." Morana leaned back towards the door. "You can come in now!" 

"Good! He's such a grumbler!" Striga grunted, striding through the bedroom door, steering a glowering Hector in front of her by his shoulders. 

Lenore's eyes widened, as she took him in. He was naked, smooth and dusky and ridged with muscle, save for the slimmest scrap of scarlet covering his modesty and a pair of red leather cuffs securing his wrists, linked by a long chain. He skidded on his heels, pushing back against Striga's adamant shove. As Lenore and Hector locked eyes, a blush streaked across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, as if he'd been splashed with rum. His shoulders drew up and his abs crunched, as his body went concave, shrinking from her in embarrassment. 

"It really is my birthday…" Lenore murmured, one eyebrow quirking. 

"You bet your ass!" Striga boomed. "Or rather, his ass." She spun Hector with a yelp, revealing the wide window in his underwear, baring his firm ass and crowning it with a lustrous bow. 

Lenore's stomach filled with mayflies. 

Morana eyed her with a twinkle, then shared an amused, self-satisfied look with Striga. She moved off the bed post and began to walk leisurely away. "When you're done, we'll have brunch. Happy birthday, Dear."

Lenore blew her a kiss, eyes barely leaving Hector. 

"Enjoy!" Striga gave Hector's ass a hard slap, making him jump. She marched out, slinging her arm around her wife's shoulders, as she passed. 

The door banged behind them. Hector winced. He quickly wheeled around to face Lenore, or rather, face his ass away from her. She was grinning at him, the points of her canines glinting like knives. She had a terrible glee on her face that made him nervous, given her usual composure. Her hair was kinked around her temples, falling rakishly in her wide, stunning eyes. Her nightdress scooped low on her chest and showed the shadows of her body and the dark tint of her nipples through the fine weave. Hector gulped. His cock tingled. He moved his hands awkwardly to shield it from view. 

Lenore slid off the bed and stood, one hand trailing over the engraved flowers on the bedpost. She looked at him with glittering eyes. “Aren’t you going to say happy birthday?”

Hector let out an uncomfortable laugh. “H-happy birthday.”

“Thank you.” She stepped forward, her hand floating behind her to touch the bedpost until the very last moment. “Did you get me a present?”

Hector’s shoulders tensed. He was somehow both cold and burning hot. “I…” He cleared his throat. “I believe I am the present.”

Lenore lifted a delicate finger to her lip and sneaked the tip between her sharp teeth. “And a fine one too. But you’re my good boy, Hector, I didn’t think you’d forget.”

Hector suddenly felt horribly guilty. Why did he feel guilty? She was his captor. She had stolen his freedom. She didn’t deserve presents, no matter how beautiful she was, or how nice he felt around her, or how often she made him laugh. No presents for her. Not one. The bloody cheek. He cleared his throat to tell her off. “Well, what would you like me to give you?”  _ Damn it. _

Lenore smiled with deep satisfaction around her fingertip. She slipped it out and tucked her hair behind her ear. Hector so rarely saw her hair fully down, loosed from its braids. She looked like wildfire. The air of wily greed she had adopted tickled him in his abdomen and on the back of his neck. She sashayed a few more steps closer, now only a foot from him. “Give me a kiss.” 

Hector’s stomach flipped and his lips prickled. He felt instantly incredibly aware of his nakedness. He crumpled back a little, but it only made the details of his muscles stand out under his skin. He saw Lenore’s gaze trace them, could practically feel the stroke of her eyes, like pins dragging over his pores. His eyes drifted to her lips, the colour of roses frozen at the last moment of life. He definitely shouldn’t kiss her, she definitely didn’t deserve it. Even if it was her birthday. It was her birthday though…

“I’m waiting, Hector.”

It was her  _ birthday _ .

Hector cupped his hands closer around his groin and closed the gap between them, his bare feet whispering on the floorboards. She hadn’t put her perfume on yet, she smelled of the fresh bed linen and citrus soap. It always felt strange standing close to her. He was so much taller than her, but he always felt like she was looking down on him, shrinking him to pocket-size. He ducked his face closer to hers and closed his eyes. He kissed her softly, lingering on her lips, unable to resist a small suck on the tip of her tongue. His senses flurried. He pulled back, a little dizzy. Starlight fell from the window onto the tendrils of her hair. She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. She took his wrists gently and pulled them apart.

“Uh…” Hector started to protest, but the words stopped in his throat. The nearness of her hands to his cock was extremely distracting. 

She peeled the veil of his hands away and looked brazenly at his thickness. Her eyes flicked back up to him. She looked vexingly pleased with herself. 

“Stop it,” he mumbled.

“Stop what?” She murmured coyly. “This?” 

She pinched his chin in one hand and lined the other to his bulge. She squeezed lightly and rocked her palm, sending ripples of reluctant pleasure through him. She pulled him by the pinch down into another kiss. He drooped into it, his resistance trickling out of his body with the dew trickling from the tip of his cock and kissing the heel of her hand. Her touch was warm and firm, he swelled into it, shaping to her, his hips starting to answer her motion against his will. His tongue snaked over hers, drawn by her taste and her flickering tease. A weak moan slipped from his mouth into hers. His chained hands plucked at her nightdress. He forgot his indignance and the ridiculousness of his outfit. 

It was Lenore’s birthday. 

She drew out of the head-spinning kiss, sucking hard on his lower lip with a soft bite that sent a shiver down his spine. The loss of her lips left him floundering. She kept hold of his chin and fixed her eyes on his, penetrating and enticing and frightening. “Good Boy, what a lovely present.”

Hector’s cheeks glimmered with bashful pride.

“But, like you said…” Lenore cocked her head and grinned like a fairy, “You’re not just a gift-giver, you’re a gift yourself.”

Hector went hard and hot and tight and restless and stone-still all at once. He pressed his lips together and gave an infinitesimal nod. He glanced to the bed and the strap-on gleaming the colour of cranberries. His core ached. Lenore had never done this with him. He told himself every time he woke up in a fiery sweat from dreaming about it that it would be just another undignified violation to add to the list. Just another deep, hard, rhythmic, pounding, overwhelming, conquering, relieving, resounding violation…

“All fours on the bed, Pet.”

His body moved for him. He kept his eyes on the strap-on, as he slinked onto the bed on his knees and bent forward. His splayed hands sank into the sheets like cool water. The chain connecting his leather cuffs clinked. The slave ring chafed on his finger. His cock pushed against the panties, the satin kissing his sensitive tip and taunting him. His exposed ass perked up, the ends of the ribbon fluttering on his enlivening skin. He took a slow breath and tried to steady himself, to ground himself in the soothing, silk sheets. He didn't know what was making him more apprehensive, what was about to happen or how much he wanted it. He glanced at the red cock again. It was large, perhaps unsettlingly so, but there was a part of him excited by that. He wanted to take it, to prove he could, to be made to feel it, her, as deeply and thoroughly as he could endure. And besides, for everything, he knew she’d be gentle. She always was.

But then again…

It was her birthday.

*

Lenore smiled at Hector’s body, a tiny tremor going through the muscles in his back, his ass pointed obligingly up and subtly clenching and unclenching in anticipation. The bow sat prettily on top of it and the red, satin loops around his thighs bunched the muscle, giving him a tasty, apple roundness. Shadows from the pulled-back drapes of the four-poster bed welled in the furrow down his spine, as it flexed. 

She hooked her thumbs under the straps of her nightgown and slipped it from her shoulders. It rippled to the floor, the moonlight and the coolness of December kissing her skin. Her core coiled, as she picked up the strap-on, feeling its weight. The buckle tinkled. Hector started to turn to see.

“Eyes forward, Pet,” Lenore said with quiet strictness.

He twitched and straightened his body again, facing away from her. She fastened herself into the harness. The leather was soft, shaping to her comfortably and hugging her hips, nice and secure. The shining, cranberry cock sprouted from her, like a trumpet flower. The new limb was comically large on her slight figure, but the solid shape of it felt powerful, it would stretch him, it would lock her inside him and puppet him. She smirked. She took the phial and cracked the wax seal with her strong fingers, popping out the cork. A clean, zingy scent floated into the air, like juniper and sweetpea. She drizzled it over the cock, spreading it around with her hand, coating it until her fingers slipped. She felt a tingle sneak over her clit and deep into her flesh. She licked her lips. She poured another pool of the lube onto her fingertips. She dropped the phial back in the box and knelt on the bed behind Hector, looking down on his tensed form. She slipped her fingers between his ass cheeks and began to massage his opening. 

Hector sucked in through his teeth. 

“Ssssh, it’s alright, Love,” Lenore cooed, “Just relax.”

Hector rolled his shoulders. She kept massaging him, feeling him ease open for her, his hips writhing a little and ruffling the bow. 

“It’s big,” she said dreamily, “You’re going to feel it right through your body, you’re going to feel ready to split apart.”

Hector took a shuddering breath.

“It’s going to fill you up, until you can’t feel anything else. It’s just so huge, Hector, and so hard.”

Another ice-chilled breath.

She felt him ready. She slid her fingertips down to his perineum and pressed. He hiccupped and his ass bounced, his cuffs rattling. She chuckled. He was such a dignified man, an artist and a thinker and a maniacal logician. Silliness suited him. Submission suited him. She notched the crimson tip to his opening. His body hardened.

“Don’t hold your breath, Hector. Breathe through it.”

His shoulder blades rose and parted in a deep inhale. As the breath left his body, she slid forward. And impaled him. 

A shock of pleasure hit her clit.

“God! Christ!” Hector yapped hoarsely, his fingers closing tight on the sheets and his biceps going jagged.

Lenore shimmied the pleasure out and stroked the small of his back, speaking like a hypnotist. “Keep breathing, don’t fight it. It hurts if you resist. It feels good if you surrender. I promise, Hector. It feels so good, if you surrender.”

Hector’s breathing was coming sharp and shallow.

“Give into it. Give into me.”

“Oh my God…”

For a long moment, she held him still, hanging off her cock like an executed prisoner displayed on a spike. She watched the ripples through his body, as he adjusted, as his core fitted around her. 

“Be a good, little gift.”

“Mmmph…” He nodded.

Lenore’s demure face shattered into a gleeful grin. She curled her grip around his hips, stroking the satin. She withdrew, like drawing a blade, leaving only the tip teasing his entrance. She propelled into him.

“Oh, Lenore!” Hector’s shoulders buckled. He grasped the sheets to stay steady. 

Pleasure washed Lenore’s vulva and tumbled down her legs. That magician had outdone himself. She sighed and tossed her hair. She began to thrust. 

She started slow, striking deep, with the pendulum swing of a hammer brought down to an anvil. The fizzing, fluttering sensation flowing into her body from the enchanted strap-on rose and receded, her own rhythm teasing her, drip-feeding pleasure into her clit. Hector’s hips snaked in her clasp, his vertebrae cresting under his skin, as his spine undulated with each pound into his body. He moaned over and over, soft and confused and yearning. She couldn’t decide which felt better, the pleasure from the potion, or Hector squirming against her. As she drove deep, his buttocks ground on the front of her hips. He twisted around the rigidity inside him. Every motion he made sent another pulse of heat up the cock into her body.

She giggled and hummed and bit her lip. “That’s it, Hector, chase the pleasure. I know you want this. You know you want this. Squirm for me. I can feel it.”

Hector shivered, it effervesced in her abdomen. She clutched him harder, pricking him with her fingernails. He winced and whined. She thrust harder, the exertion thrumming in her abs and pelvis. The pleasure intensified, simmering in her belly. Back and forth. Back and forth. She stroked into him, watching his muscles turn to butter, as he sank into the mattress, his back arching and dipping and beading with sweat, glistening like a reflection of the stars. Her soft panting and the pat of her flesh hitting his fell into a skipping rhythm. She fucked him harder, the chorus rising. Harder again, pleasure bursting in her clit, like firecrackers.

Hector groaned and writhed. His elbows gave out and he dropped to them, his brow burying in the sheets scrunched in his fists, his ass pushing up, skewering him deeper. He cried out, muffled in the silk. 

“You’re taking this so well,” she purred.

He whined unintelligibly.

She spanked his thigh. He whimpered. His pert ass chased the base of her cock. She laughed and pistoned harder, treating his prostate like a war drum. Each strike knocked another sensibility, another resistance, out of him. Lenore soared with excitement, high on the power. He was coming apart around her cock, cotton unspooling on a bobbin. His surrender felt like an extension of her body. The potion sucked every twitch and pulse and gasp and wriggle and clench from Hector into her, filling her flesh with his helpless, bewildered need. His shoulder blades flapped. The bed squeaked. His biceps bunched. His ass went tacky with a mist of sweat and kissed her hips over and over, the ribbon fluttering like a butterfly.

“Can you take it harder?” Lenore asked in a taunting, sing-song tone.

“Uh… Ah… I…” Hector gasped and grunted.

“Knew you could. Good Boy.”

She dug her talons in. She pumped brutally into him, pleasure and power spinning through her body. He growled and bit down on the sheets. His body rattled with her impact. His forearms ploughed through the creases in the silk. Lenore felt like playful, expert fingertips were ferreting into her folds. She was wet against the leather, her cool body heating, as if she was in a kiln. 

Hector snarled and huffed into the mattress. The cock inside him was gemstone hard and smooth, sliding speedily until his nerves were singing raucously. Each pound on his prostate was like the strike of a gong, reverberating through his flesh and overtaking him with trembling, until he couldn’t make his limbs or his tongue obey him. He drooled onto the fine silk, his chin slick with saliva. His knees and thighs burned, his hips ached. He melted on the strap-on, like an icicle drizzling on a stalactite. The cock was thick, intimidatingly so. It strained him, made him feel full to breaking point. Somewhere in the racket of wild, lost-in-the-woods pleasure, he felt proud. He could take her. He could endure being taken and ground into dust. He was strong enough to give her this gift. He, who had never believed himself to be strong. The joy of it flooded him. His cock pulsed and swelled and ached. God, it ached. He moaned long and low.

Hector’s moan vibrated through Lenore. The pleasure was swirling in her belly and daggering her clit. It rolled in her flesh, blurring the edges of her vision, so she focused like a diving falcon on Hector’s wrecked body beneath her. She saw his hand flex and creep under him, then spasm and still and clutch the sheet again. She smiled.

“Are you ready to come?”

Hector made a gurgling sound in the back of his mouth.

“See?” Lenore smirked. “I told you it would feel good to give in. The more complete the surrender, the more complete the pleasure. Is your pleasure feeling complete, Hector? Is there anything of you left outside of it?”

Hector rasped a breath and pushed his ass hard to her.

“Do you remember our first night, when you said you belonged to me?”

He choked on thwarted speech.

“It’s only become more true, more possessingly, entirely true. Isn’t that so?”

He let out a long, animal whine. A droplet of sweat streaked between his shoulder blades. 

Lenore was burning, those invisible fingertips frantic on her clit, Hector’s desire frantic in her senses. She fucked him with all her force, railing and ramming, tenderising him like meat. The harder she thrust, the higher her pleasure surged. Harder. Higher. Harder. Higher.

“Len… Le… Plea… I’m… I…” A series of quarter-formed words spilled over Hector’s quivering tongue. 

“Can’t hold it any longer for me?” Lenore chuckled.

“N… I…” He made a wet, gear-grinding noise in his throat. “I can… if you… need… but… God, Oh God, Oh my God…” His voice petered into a shrill croak. He snatched the sheets into his teeth.

Mirth and flame whipped through Lenore. She threw her head back and laughed musically. The bubbling of laughter in her belly brought her pleasure to boil. “No, my good boy. No more waiting.” 

She pressed one hand onto his ridged spine and swung forward in one final strike, ploughing into him ruthlessly, the sword being driven into the stone. With her other hand she pinched the end of the ribbon between finger and thumb and pulled. The bow wilted away, the panties peeled from his cock. It sprang out, dark and oak-hard and etched with want.

“Now.” Her voice was half command, half relief.

The pleasure broke in Lenore’s body. It cascaded through her flesh, the beating of blood in her clit echoing throughout her, like an underground river in a cavern. Hector loosed a rough cry, like a wolf being thrown against a tree. He gasped and moaned and bucked wildly, almost throwing her sideways with the force of release, his struggle sending aftershocks over the red cock and into her, quaking and fluttering.

“Mmmm… Hector…”

“Oh, Lenore…”

He slowly fell still, save for the soft shaking in his supple body, the muscles all relaxed and heavy. Lenore felt his weight sink on her pelvis. She eased herself out of him, drawing one final moan from his spit-soaked lips. 

He collapsed.

He tumbled onto his side, curling his knees up to his chest, his hair tangling in a briar patch around his brow. He covered his face with his hands and took deep, quivering breaths. Lenore unbuckled her harness and slipped it free, dropping the strap-on into the box askew on the bed. She combed her fingers through her hair and shook it out, the last waves of pleasure dissipating on her scalp. She sighed happily, laughter eddying on it, and tipped sideways to lie facing Hector.

“Are you still with me?” she murmured.

Hector’s hands slowly, very slowly, lowered from his face, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips, so they were bleary and bloodshot, as he emerged. He nodded.

“Good Boy.”

A smile twitched in the corner of his mouth, then spread across his flushed face. “That thing…” he whispered, “...is fucking big.”

Lenore grinned and ran her hand over his misty shoulder. “You did well for me, Hector.”

His eyes softened, electric blue to forget-me-not. Then they twinkled, light leaping in them and sparkling. He reached out and stroked her waist, his hand warm and steady, despite the trembling under his skin. Lenore rocked into his touch, contentment filling her body like wine.

“Of course, I did,” he said in a voice like embers. “It’s your birthday.”


End file.
